Whisper What it Is You Want
by Xyriath
Summary: Roy is a lawyer. Ed is a hundreds of thousands of year old genie who claims to be able to give him anything he wants. Anything. [Modern day Roy/Ed]
1. Boss

(Genie AU I occasionally play around in. Updates will generally be slow.)

—

Roy isn't really sure why the ring caught his eye, out of the rest of all the dusty wares and trinkets in the mildewing pawn shop. God knew he didn't want to be there, let alone actually buy anything, but he chalks it up to the fact that he is a far too kindhearted friend, unable to allow even his employees to walk into potential danger without his protection.

And god knows that Kain would have been mugged ten times over if Jean hadn't made a habit of keeping him company downtown.

Roy isn't sure why they were being so distant with each other lately, and actually he isn't sure he wants to, but when he heard that Kain would be heading to one of the town's seedier areas despite not having a certain hulking blond for company, he refused any argument when assigning himself as escort.

Though upon actually getting there, and wondering if they were going to end up on the six o'clock news due to the sudden collapse of an obscenely old building, he _did_ wish that Kain was a little more… street smart.

Still, he left him to his own devices, digging through boxes and poking around shelves as Roy pretended to peruse the jewelry section, not wanting anything but also not wanting to antagonize the very, very large man behind the counter.

And that's when he saw it.

The gold seemed to be oddly yellow to be grouped with rings marked as "imitation precious metals," and when Roy reached down and picked it up delicately between two fingers, it was almost warm, like someone had handled it several minutes ago and then discarded it yet again amongst its unwanted brethren. At first glance he would have noted it as a wedding band, but when he looked closer, he wasn't so sure. The symbols cut into the metal _could_ have been only an aesthetic decoration, but they seemed to have more purpose than that. He couldn't quite place them: evocative of Nordic, perhaps, or Sumerian, or even Egyptian, never mind that the three looked nothing alike, with an intricacy that would have been remarkably impressive for a _truly_ valuable piece, let alone one tossed into a stack in front of a sign that read "2 for $75."

He rolled it in his fingers, the runes—were they runes? Were they letters?—catching in the flickering fluorescent light, and Roy suddenly wondered very intently what they read, and if it would fit him—

The sound of a collision that caused a near-crash jerked him out of his reverie, and he whirled to see Kain staggering up to the counter with several pieces of what looked like old junk piled high in his arms.

"Find anything interesting?" Roy asked dryly, striding over to scoop up a good half of the mess. Some of what he could identify was radios, but he didn't even bother trying to place the rest of it.

"Y-yeah! This place was like a treasure trove!" Kain grunted, shifting the remainder of the load in his arms. "What about you? You seemed kinda interested in something."

Roy tried not to snort; the idea that anything in this place could catch his attention was laughable, though he didn't tell Kain that. It clearly served certain purposes very well, but Roy had very different hobbies.

"Unfortunately not. Now hurry and check out before I start coughing up dustballs."

Kain snorted, but headed off before any further words were exchanged.

—

The trip was barely memorable four days later. No, Roy would soon have much more important things about which to worry than finding himself in a seedy pawn shop for an hour or so.

Like the fact that he was going to be very late for work.

Back when Roy had scouted a location for his firm, he had made the mistake of using Google maps to estimate his travel distance and plan his schedule around that. Ten minutes was not a bad drive, certainly.

Unfortunately, Google maps had not accounted for the morning traffic, and for some reason, he had yet to manage to trick his mind into realizing that he had to leave _more_ than fifteen minutes before he needed to be there.

Not that he could _technically_ be punished, not when he owned the place, but the inevitable repercussions from Riza would not be pretty.

"Shit," he hissed to himself, several sheets of paper that he had nearly forgotten clamped between his teeth as he dug in his coat pockets for his keys. Fashionable as it was, it had far too many of those pockets, and it was 8:13 and his car wasn't even _on_ yet...

"Yo."

Roy stopped short, glancing around, and his eyes settled on the short form standing in his driveway, too close to his gleaming blue Ford Mustang for comfort. Especially with the way the kid was dressed: the red hoodie was worn and not quite ragged, but could do with replacing. The jeans had faded areas and Roy spotted a few tears around the knees. On top of all that, the long blond hair, braided back but with strands escaping, made Roy think a bit too much of rebellious youth with naught but mischief in mind.

He lifted his free hand to yank the papers out from between his teeth, tucking them underneath his other arm instead. "Can I help you?" he snapped, digging into his right pocket for the third time before realizing that yes, he'd already checked that one, try another—

"Not really," the kid drawled, the cockiness of his tone unsurprising, the way he was smirking at Roy. "I'm the one who's gonna help you."

"Then help me find my keys," Roy snapped. Normally he would have enjoyed taking the time to weave a net of words, to set up a match of verbal sparring that entrapped its victims before they even realized, but right now—

He was so very, very late.

"Check your pocket," the kid said with a shrug, nodding at the pocket that Roy's hand had just left. Roy shoved his hand in instinctively, despite preparing to tell him to get lost—

And he felt metal.

He glanced down at them for approximately two seconds in surprise before deciding to take the small blessing and unlocking the door. Tossing his briefcase and a stack of paperwork into the passenger seat, he pulled his head back out and shot the kid an exasperated look.

"You should leave. Please don't loiter on my property. It isn't polite."

"I'm not," the kid replied, walking past Roy, towards the house, then... around the front of Roy's car. "I'm sticking with you."

"Sticking with... me." Roy couldn't keep the flat tone from his voice. "Look, I don't know who you are—"

"Consider me your personal assistant." Cheeky little interrupting shit, wasn't he? "You want something, I grant it." He lifted his hands out of the front pocket of his hoodie and wiggled his fingers. "Like magic."

"Right, so you're a magical fairy creature, then?" Roy snapped, wishing he could get in his car but not wanting to leave the kid attended in his driveway. "Or ancient genie, maybe? I rub a lamp? Get three wishes?"

"Closest, I guess," the kid replied with a shrug, his tone, as far as Roy could hear, completely serious, and he had to keep from rolling his eyes. "Only no limit on the amount of wishes. As long as you're not irresponsible with them."

"Irresponsible. Right." Roy had never been irresponsible a day in his life. Not once. He couldn't help being a bit miffed at the accusation. "And what does that mean?"

The kid just grinned.

Roy rolled his eyes, then checked his phone. 8:16. Even more shit.

"How about making it so I'm not late for work?" He shook his head and opened the door, impatient and tired of arguing. "Do something useful."

He set in the seat and slammed the door, thinking that was that, and it was—until the passenger door opened.

Roy _swore_ it had been locked.

"Gotta say the magic words." That drawl again, and the kid was moving Roy's papers to the back seat—and Roy could do nothing but gape at the audacity.

"You can't just—you—what—"

And then the kid was crawling into his car, _Roy's_ car, and buckling himself in.

"Magic words. And no, not please. C'mon, humor me."

He grinned wolfishly, and Roy, for some reason, couldn't bring himself to argue the kid's presence in the car. He struggled with the notion for a moment, then chalked it up to his desire _not to be late._

"Fine," he snapped, throwing the car in reverse and slipping back out of his driveway at a rather unsafe speed. "I wish that I would get to work on time."

—

The clock read 8:27 when he pulled into the parking lot.

It did, of course, flick to 8:28 as he was staring at it in a daze. That... it wasn't possible. Wasn't _remotely_ possible. In all his life, Roy had never driven down Affinity Avenue and encountered no traffic, let alone hit every single green light.

"This isn't possible," he murmured, blinking at the clock yet again.

"Hey, I fucking told you—"

"Make your hair turn blue."

"Hey, man, what the fuck!"

But before the kid had even finished speaking, that golden hair had turned blue.

Roy blinked slowly, once, then twice. Then he leaned forward, his head thumping onto the steering wheel.

"This _isn't possible._ "

"Well, apparently it is. God, I look like a fucking—"

"Turn your hair back," Roy ordered tiredly, eyes closing. He needed to get to work, and he _didn't_ need to worry about this, but apparently this kid—this _genie_ —was going to follow him around—

"What's your name?"

"Edward," the kid replied, and Roy could hear him shuffling around, undoing his seatbelt. "Call me Ed, though."

Roy took a deep breath, then switched off the car, pulling back. He reached to the back seat before catching sight of Ed again and pausing.

"If you're going to follow me around, make yourself look older." Roy scowls. "I can't have some thirteen-year-old—"

"I do _not_ look thirteen!" For the first time since meeting him, Ed looked pissed, but regardless, his features shifted...

Roy should probably have not been so close to Ed's face. He snatched up the papers and drew back quickly, snapping, before he could think about it, "Not like that!"

Ed scowled, golden eyebrows furrowing above golden eyes, the traces of pouty teenager gone and leaving something more... refined. Handsome. "Like _what?_ I did what you said!"

Roy squeezed his eyes shut. He ran his fingers over his thumb, curling his right hand into a fist, running the base of his left palm over it thoughtfully.

"How long can you stay that way?"

"Long as I want. The other look was just 'cause I picked it. I'm a fucking lot older than I look now, you know."

"How old—no, don't answer that."

With a deep breath, he pulled back, opening his eyes. Clarity wasn't quite the right word for the emotion that washed over him. Determination, maybe. Work. He needed to get to work. He would sort this out later, at some point. Today, even. But right now, he needed to focus on not being murdered by Riza, because not even a wish could save him from something so thoroughly deserved.

Even if Ed had just gotten _unfairly_ hot.

"Fine," he sighed, dropping his hands and picking the papers back up. "If you're going to follow me, then I have to get inside." He opened the door, waiting for Ed to do the same before locking the car, and headed quickly towards the building, Ed in tow. He noticed, with a bit of confusion, that despite looking older, Ed's short height had not changed.

"Roy Mustang. A lawyer, huh?" he asked, eyeing the name on the doors. "Wow, guess I didn't score too badly, after all."

Roy rolled his eyes, but... really, there was no heart in it as he held open the door.

"Don't make a nuisance of yourself," he ordered, watching Ed critically, he told himself, making sure that he kept up not looking like a teenager, as the kid sauntered through.

He wasn't sure if the grin Ed flashed him left him reassured or concerned.


	2. Master

"Nice place," Ed drawled as they strolled into the lobby, glancing around appreciatively at the marble tile, the trees, the small fountain splashing away and glittering in the light that the ceiling-high windows let in. Not that Roy disagreed—there was a reason he had rented in this building, after all—but he couldn't help feeling like Ed was taking it in as what would be of service to _him_ , which made him perhaps unreasonably wary. But as Ed's expression softened with a faraway look, a murmur of, "I like fountains," he suddenly felt himself slipping off-balance again. For a moment, just a moment, Roy didn't have a difficult time whatsoever believing that Ed was as he claimed—

And then he was right back to being a piece of shit kid again.

"Top floor? Seems fancy as fuck." His words drew a glare from a well-dressed man also in the elevator, and Roy closed his eyes momentarily.

"Why?" he asked with a tired sigh. "Do you have a fascination with being farther away from the ground? Seeing as it isn't exactly an opportunity in your everyday life."

Ed's expression immediately turned ugly. "Hey, now you listen the fuck—"

"Don't talk," Roy interrupted swiftly, and Ed immediately choked off with an odd, croaking squeak. Roy couldn't stop his smirk at the outrageously offended look on Ed's face. When it shifted from that to something more calculating and crafty, and Ed opened his mouth again, he amended, "Or make noises. With your mouth. Vocally."

Ed closed his mouth, glaring mutinously, and the man with them in the elevator stepped out quickly as it stopped on the third floor. Roy waited until the doors sealed shut to say, "You can talk again."

"Okay, seriously, the fuck is your problem? You can't just—"

"Isn't the point of this entire mess is that I _can_ just?" Roy breaks in with an irritated sigh. "If you're going to _insist_ on following me around, _especially_ to my place of employment, then you have to watch your language, and if the only way to make that happen is to order you to do so, then so be it."

Ed glares at Roy out of the corner of his eye. "Y'know, I could choose to take that literally."

"Please don't." It was far, far too early for Roy to have the beginnings of a pounding headache, but here they were.

"Well _fine_ then," Ed grumbled, and Roy really didn't feel too terribly bad about the sulky expression on his face.

They stepped out of the elevator, and Roy pushed open the frosted glass door with his name on it: "Mustang, Attorney at Law."*

Riza was the first to glance through as they walked in, followed by a quick glance at the clock—whose second hand had just ticked onto the twelve. So he wasn't _technically_ late. "Impressive, sir," she murmured, and though it _seemed_ innocuous enough, the heavy irony in her voice was blatant enough that even Ed picked up on it, judging by his snort.

"And who's this?" she continued, critical gaze settling onto Ed. Roy thought, for just a moment, that even _he_ would be just a little cowed by it, but when he looked over, the same damned shit-eating grin was still there, and—was it even bigger, now?

"I'm—"

"It's a long story, Riza," Roy interrupted smoothly, though he couldn't help wondering exactly _what_ Ed had been about to say. Nightmares flashed through his mind for a moment, and ironically enough, Ed telling her the truth was not one of them. "I'll explain later. Do you have the brief for the Bradley case? I think I had a breakthrough last night."

"Good; we need one." Heymans walked through the door to the back, handing a folder over. Roy thanked him as he accepted it, but didn't miss the meaningful look that he shot Ed. He decided that it would be for the best if he ignored it, for now. "Don't suppose you're willing to share?"

Roy smiled wryly. "If it works? Absolutely. Until then." He paused, glancing around, frowning at the sight of Riza behind the receptionist's desk. "Wait, where's Sheska?"

"Training the new intern," Heymans offered, holding the door open as Roy walked through to the offices. "Mail and paperwork's getting a bit much for just the one person to handle. And really, do you want anyone _else_ behind the desk?"

Roy's thoughts cycled through the images of Kain, Vato, and Jean being the first to greet clients—and after the third option, quickly put it out of his mind. "Point taken." He paused, then frowned as he heard a _thump_ from behind the closed door of the file room. "Wait, who thought it was a good idea to have _Sheska_ train the intern?"

Heymans was spared from having to answer as Jean practically tripped out of the paralegals' office, looking slightly harried. As Heymans caught him, Roy couldn't help but notice that he appeared to have a busted lip, but before he could ask, Jean saw the three of them, straightened, frowned in confusion, then asked, "Who's the fucking kid?"

Heymans's eyes cut over to Ed, and Roy didn't have to be a canny lawyer to pick up on the fact that Jean had blurted out the question that Heymans had been dying to ask.

Nor did he miss the absolutely _betrayed_ look that Ed shot him at Jean's profanity. He sighed, but before he could say anything, he heard an irritated voice coming from the office Jean had just left.

"It's the new intern, Jean, we've _told_ you. You've _met_ her. You can't _possibly_ be that indiscriminate towards women."

Roy's eyebrows shot up at the words; to hear _Kain_ , of all people, saying something like that, meant that something was very, very wrong. A quick glance at Heymans and even Ed showed that their reactions were similar.

"No," Jean snapped, glaring back through the doorway, voice almost as irritated but also with a small tinge of guilt in it. "It's another one—a guy. Here with the boss."

A long pause from inside the office, then Roy could hear a chair being pushed back and Kain scrambling to the door. "And it's a lucky thing it is," he called, brow furrowed, eyeing Kain critically when his head appeared around the door frame. "That kind of talk could very easily make someone uncomfortable. I allow a large amount of leeway here, but you need to be respectful of newcomers, especially an intern."

He glanced between Jean, who was determinedly not looking at either Kain or Roy, and Kain, who had visibly wilted of embarrassment at the rebuke. "Do I need to speak with either of you about this?" The pounding in his head was rapidly growing more threateningly painful.

"No, sir," both of them mumbled, though they still didn't look at each other. Something to keep an eye on, then, before things escalated out of control.

"Good. Sort it out." He stepped past them, ignoring the glances they were still shooting Ed, and headed to his office. Once Ed had entered, he closed the door, but it was only a few moments before a knock sounded on it.

Thankfully, it was only Vato, who handed him some more papers before giving Ed an odd look. He didn't ask, though, just walked off, and Roy made a mental note to remember that when raise time came around as he locked the door.

"That's kinda suspicious," Ed murmured, raising an eyebrow with a half-mocking, half-annoyed look. "Should I be worried? Y'know, given that you've already shown that you'll be _plenty_ unfair—"

"Fine!" Roy snapped, slapping the folder and the rest of his paperwork onto his desk with a force that was probably not quite necessary. "Watch your language and make sure it is _appropriate_ for the situation. In public. Around children. And if it goes overboard—"

"It won't, okay!" Ed's voice was rather close to a whine now, and Roy cracked the knuckles on his left hand, running his thumb over the fingers, but that was good enough.

"Fine. We're dropping it, then."

"Fine." Ed scowled, glancing around, and flopped back into the chair across from Roy's desk, arms crossed.

And then, Roy heard a very definite muttered, "Dictator."

Roy took a deep breath. His headache was getting worse. But maybe—

"Make this headache stop." He paused for a moment, then added, "please."

Ed glanced over at him. Roy could feel the tension in his shoulders ease as the pain instantly bled away, leaving him feeling a little more refreshed—and a little more able to take on the approximate clusterfuck that had been dumped into his lap this morning.

First things first.

"So," he began, glancing down at the papers on his desk and sorting them into piles. "As you may guess, I have plenty of questions about this... arrangement. And it is an arrangement, it seems, correct?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ed shrug. "Yeah, I guess if you want to put it that way."

"So, is there a particular reason that you've chosen me, out of everyone else in the world?"

Ed snorted. "I didn't choose you. I don't choose, period."

"So what does?" He frowned slightly and picked up a letter from another case that had gotten mixed in with the Bradley case paperwork, setting it aside.

"Can't tell you that."

Roy's hands stilled, and he looked up. "Can't, or won't?"

"Can't," Ed repeated, golden eyes locked on Roy's. "Part of the rules."

Roy watched Ed for a moment, thinking. If he was going to be thrust into such a ridiculous situation, he should at least get a bearing on the situation. An overview of the case, so to speak.

"Can you tell me these rules?"

"Some of 'em."

Roy sent up a wish for patience—internally—and rolled his eyes. "I wish for you to tell me the rules."

He didn't miss the slight smirk on Ed's face at the words, and he narrowed his eyes. He would have to get clarification on the verbiage required, too.

"There are a lot of 'em. Just a heads up."

"Then start. I'll ask for clarification as you continue."

"Fine." Ed grimaced. "I'm bound to you. No one else. No limits on the number of wishes as long as I am. I can't hurt you, or kill you, or anything." He smirked a little, and Roy held up a hand.

"Stop. Can you lie to me?"

Ed's smirk vanished and his expression turned into something decidedly sulkier. "Yeah. I mean, unless you fuckin' tell me to tell you somethin' specifically."

"So you can't lie to me about these rules," Roy mused, eyeing Ed. "In that case..." He paused, thinking, going over his previous interactions—and granted wishes—with Ed in his mind. There was only the one common factor between the majority. "Answer my questions without lying."

Ed rolled his eyes. "Fine! Can't you fuckin' trust a guy? You're so suspicious."

"I'm a defense attorney," Roy shot back dryly. "I don't trust anyone. Now. Earlier, when I wished to make it to work on time, you told me that I had to word it, specifically, as a wish. But for almost everything else, I haven't needed to. Why?"

"Because I have to obey direct orders." Ed's reply was immediate. "You don't really gotta wish for somethin' for me to grant it."

"Then why did you require it the first time?"

Ed shrugged, smirking a little again. "'Cause you sound fuckin' ridiculous when you do say it."

Roy was definitely _not_ biting back a smile as he stifled down equal parts amusement and annoyance. Wonderful.

"Direct orders. All right. Is—"

A thought suddenly occurred to him, and he had to stop speaking to process it entirely. It was—crazy, yes, and there would be so much to consider and resolve, but if Ed _could_ —

He looked up again, gaze intent, trying to squash the bubble of hope suddenly rising in his chest, but unable to. "What _can't_ you do?"

"Good question. Not much." Ed lifted a finger. "Can't make someone fall in love with or wanna have sex with you." He lifted a second. "No bringin' people back from the dead."

The bubble burst, leaving Roy with a sick sensation of sorrow and disappointment. So much for that. But maybe—

Ed didn't even notice as he continued, lifting a third finger. "Generally can't fuck with time, not if changing it would have any kinda significant effect on the world. Future stuff is weirder. We'll talk if you wanna try time traveling."

And his second hope was gone as well.

"I also can't tell you some shit—and no, I can't tell you what I can't tell you, and it's probably all gonna seem fuckin' arbitrary, but that's how these things work. Some stuff I _can_ tell you, but only after you go and figure other stuff out."

"Thank you for clarifying."

Ed rolled his eyes at the irony coating Roy's voice. "Hey, I don't make the rules. They're just there."

"And who did make them?"

Ed simply watched Roy, who sighed. "Point taken. Is there anything you _can_ tell me?"

"Yeah." When Roy blinked in surprise, Ed shrugged. "I'm usually good for yes or no questions, but can't guarantee that. But when you figure somethin' out, sometimes I can tell you more that I couldn't before, if you ask."

Roy sighed again, propping his elbows on his desk and his chin in his hands, papers all but forgotten, thinking. "And, am I correct in assuming that these questions you can't answer are all related to your origin?" Upon seeing Ed hesitate, he quickly, amended, "or your… how you operate." He winced; there was surely a better term for that, but the word escaped him at the moment.

"Yeah." Ed shook his head at the word, but he seemed more exasperated than actually irritated. "Basically that."

"Fine. Can you tell me why you picked me?"

"I didn't."

"Then can you tell me why you're… attached to me, instead of someone else?"

Ed hesitated, grimacing, and Roy closed his eyes, wishing, again, for patience.

" _What_ can you tell me about why you're attached to me."

Ed relaxed a little at that, which was… interesting, but something to consider for another time. "It's random. 'Least, as far as I can tell, why you people end up with…" He hesitated again. "...Me."

"And how does that happen, you just… vanish from one person—"

"Master," Ed interrupted, and Roy grimaced. "Yeah, I hate the word too, but that's how it is."

Roy took a deep breath. "Fine, then. Do you just vanish from one person and end up with another?"

Ed shook his head, a curious tilt to it as he watched Roy. Roy felt almost as if he were being evaluated, and he narrowed his eyes, trying to read between the lines, suss out the situation. Genie. When anyone thought genie, they thought… a lamp. Well, Roy owned lamps, but nothing that he hadn't owned for years, certainly. Still…

"So in the movie, Aladdin, the genie was bound to a lamp. Are you?"

Ed shook his head, but his eyes lit up. So no lamp, then, but—

"Are you bound to an object? Something that recently came into my possession."

Ed's eyes brightened even further, satisfaction written in every inch of his expression. "There you fuckin' go, Mustang." He sounded proud, despite himself, and Roy allowed him to bask in the brief moments of approval before returning to the problem at hand.

Namely, that he still had no idea what it was.

"And I suppose you can't tell me what it is," Roy sighed, watching Ed cross his arms and settle further into the chair, which had turned into something considerably cushier and more comfortable than what it had been before.

"Nope," Ed replied, almost cheerfully, watching Roy. Roy barely noticed—he was busy trying to catalogue anything he had obtained recently, and absolutely nothing came to mind.

"Is it anything related to this legal brief?" Roy muttered, flicking at the papers. "Or related to my job?"

At Ed's shake of the head, Roy sighed—he was doing a lot of that lately—and leaned back in his chair. "Fine. New line of questioning. You said that you'd be with me unless I was irresponsible, right? What's that mean?"

"Now, _that's_ a good fuckin' question, and one I still can't answer completely, but I'm gonna damn well try. As far as I can tell, it seems t'be like—okay, look, I can't do shit to stop you from tellin' someone, and that's fine, whatever. Or a couple people. But if they start tellin' people too, and they tell more people, well, then one day I'll probably just vanish. The people who made us didn't really like us bein' publicized, yeah?"

"Us?" Roy's head jerked upright. "There are more of you?"

"Fuck yeah, there are. Or were. Lot of 'em are dead now."

"So you can be killed. Not by old age, I'm assuming. Sick? Can you get sick, or injured?"

"Not me, I can't."

"What about the object, whatever it is, that you're bound to?"

Ed just smirked, and though he didn't say anything, his expression was clear approval.

"Well, I certainly don't want to do that. Where are they?"

"Fuck if I know. They didn't exactly want us socializing." Ed's eyes turned dark for a moment, closer to a honey color than an amber.

They. Us. Roy watched Ed, eyes narrowed, piecing together clues in his mind. Ed clearly didn't _need_ Roy's permission to use whatever magic he might have.

"So, you can't cause me harm. But if we ran into another of your kind, they could?"

Ed lifted his chin, staring at the ceiling, not answering the one, either. But once again, the impressed-despite-himself expression on his face told Roy all he needed to know.

Roy filed the knowledge away in a corner of his mind, for pondering later. The existence of other genies was… interesting, to say the least, and if those rules were all in the same place, he supposed that explained why it wasn't exactly common knowledge.

"And what if, say, I wished to become president? Ruler of the world? Or even wipe a country off the map?"

Ed's languid posture was gone in a flash as he jerked his gaze back to Roy and visibly recoiled, the wheels on the chair—which, Roy noted in the back of his mind, had not been wheeled before—skidding back across the carpet. The vicious glare Ed leveled in his direction left him lifting his hands defensively.

"Calm down. I'm not going to do that. It was just hypothetical."

Ed watched him warily for another moment, eyes narrowed, then slowly started to relax. "Let's just fuckin' say that most people, the kind of people, who would do somethin' that big would lose me first, or not get their hands on me in the first place."

Roy knew he could push for more, but elected to drop it for the time being.

"So, is whatever… object it is, that binds you to me, is it sentient?"

Ed was still glaring, but shrugged, looking a little comforted at the subject change. "Don't think so. Was never really sure. Kinda think it might be, sorta, but… not in the way that you or me think about it. And that's all I'm gonna say about it."

Roy had acquired a pen at some point, and was now rapping it on the back of his left ring finger in thought. "Are there any catches to any of this? Be careful what you wish for sort of thing?"

"Not really, no. There doesn't really have to be. I mean, I could make it that way, but I'd be the one who'd end up fucked over because of it. And please, don't ask," Ed finished quickly when he saw the look on Roy's face.

"Fine. I won't, for now. Provided," Roy continued, pointing the pen at Ed, "that you change. A hoodie and those jeans are absolutely unacceptable at my firm. Put on something more appropriate."

Ed rolled his eyes—Roy wondered for a moment if being immortal kept them from popping out of his head, with how often he did that—and then, for just the briefest of moments, Ed was absolutely, stark nude in Roy's office chair. Before Roy's face could even finish flushing, let alone get out a snapped order, Ed was in slacks, a button down, and a suit and tie that Roy could see were probably worth more than the monthly rent on this location.

"Don't—How old are you, anyway!" Roy snaps, clutching his head in one hand, trying to force himself to return to a normal color. As far as retorts go it isn't the strongest, but right now he can't think of much else besides that—that—terrifying and awful mental image.

"Three hundred fifty-two thousand, forty-one years."

No. Absolutely not. Ed could _not_ be serious. Except he probably was, and that opened an entirely _new_ can of worms that he was far too busy to deal with right now.

"Right. So, I'll need your help on this case. I'm representing a woman who is married to a crime lord that was recently arrested. I'm not even touching his trial—the man is a scumbag—but she claims to know nothing of any of his activities. However, the prosecutor's office is pushing for charges." And Olivier Armstrong, he knew, would stop at nothing to make sure they stuck.

"And what d'you need me for?"

Roy resumed tapping the pen against his finger, glancing down at the brief, the statements, the transcripts. His gaze slid to the number on the sheet at the top of the file.

"I'm going to make a few calls. Make sure that everyone on the other end of the phone is telling the truth for the duration of their conversation with me."

He glanced up to see that Ed was watching him consideringly. Like maybe Roy might have some depth to him that he hadn't previously expected.

"Whatever you say, boss."

—

"So, after several calls, I have made a few discoveries." Roy glanced across the expectant faces of his staff, pausing for effect, then grinning. "Not only am I now positive that Mrs. Bradley has been completely honest with us, but I believe I have a few witnesses willing to testify to the efforts her husband made to keep the wool over her eyes, in addition to several _very_ compelling reasons for him to have done so. It isn't a won case yet, but I believe that, if these leads pan out, it will be.

There was a small cheer from the assembled group. Heymans and Jean high-fived, and Kain's beam was even brighter than the fluorescent lights. Anna, the new intern, looked a little puzzled, but it was only her first day—she would learn.

"And, in addition, I have another announcement to make." He stepped aside and gestured behind him, where Ed lifted a hand and waved.

"Yo."

"This is Edward Elric."

"Call me Ed."

"This is _Ed_ , then. He's a law student who has been tasked to shadow a partner in a law firm for a project this semester. I have _generously_ offered my assistance. Feel free, however, to tell me if he gets underfoot. He shouldn't, but just in case."

He couldn't suppress a smirk as Ed struggled to contain his glare. Sheska and the intern, at least, managed to defuse the situation slightly by introducing themselves, but the others looked at them both a bit askance until Riza took the lead.

"Riza Hawkeye. I'm an associate here."

"Pleased t'meet you." Apparently Ed _could_ have manners when he truly tried.

He went down the line then, introducing himself to the three paralegals and Vato, but they all kept glancing uncertainly between him and Roy.

Except for Riza, who kept eyeing Roy with a critical look that had him hightailing back to his office as soon as they were finished.

"I have no idea what that was about," Roy muttered as he sat in his chair again, glancing at the door uncertainly. But when he looked back at Ed, who had taken his seat in the now extremely comfortable-looking chair, he narrowed his eyes.

"What's that smirk for?"

Ed shrugged. "Oh, nothin'. Just, y'know I was wearing something completely different when I walked in here today, right?"

Roy stared at Ed for several moments, the high from the step forward in his case crumbling under the realization. With a soft groan, he leaned forward until his forehead thunked onto the papers spread across his desk.

Concerned. It definitely should have been concerned.


End file.
